War
by TheHellcow
Summary: "This is war, and I love it!" - Soldier... Imagine TF2 without respawn or mediguns. Just a regular war. As gruesome and horrible as war can get. WARNING: Major character deaths.


_Some nights ago I had a dream, which in the morning made me wake up with the feeling of despair and melancholy. Imagine TF2 without respawn or mediguns. Just a regular war. That's pretty much what my dream was about, which I've now tried to convert to an one shot. Bear with me, I had no beta this time._

* * *

The war had been raging for days, in the beginning each team was pretty equal and the fight was dragging out as neither the RED or BLU team would surrender. But then the RED Spy succeeded in stealing the BLU teams intel, and that gave the RED all the info they needed about the opposing teams weaknesses and strengths - which eventually gave them a huge advantage. Suddenly the BLU found themselves to be slowly losing the battle. Several had died already and the few surviving teammates had no chance to escape or fight back. They had long ago lost the contact to each other and were now stumbling and fumbling around from hideout to hideout on the foggy battlefield, separately and isolated.

Bombs and shooting could be heard everywhere and the sky was dark and grey from the smoke from the raging battle. The smoke clouded the whole battlefield in a misty smog, and it was hard to see the enemy. Rain mixed with blood had left the earth muddy and slippery, and everywhere you looked, your eyes would fall upon dead, mutilated bodies in blue uniforms. Not many from the BLU team was alive anymore, as the RED mercenaries were circling them in and picking them off, one by one.

In a little trench, the BLU Heavy was crouching alone, pressing his hand to a bleeding gun wound on his right arm. His face was dirtied with grime and his friends and his own blood, and he had lost his minigun long ago when the RED Sniper shot through his arm. He only had his shotgun with a few bullets left, but he wouldn't be able to use it anyway with his mauled arm. Sitting down on the ground, he prepared for his fate, as it seemed like he was the only one left and was practically defenseless.

Suddenly he perked up, as he heard a pair of boots run past his trench and carefully, he looked up over the edge, anxious that it might be an enemy looking for BLU survivors.

A familiar white coat was quickly moving away from him, and he felt his heart jump in hope.

"MEDIC!".

The white coated figure stopped dead in his track, and the Medic turned his head at the voice. When he saw the grubby head of the russian man poke up over the edge, he quickly ran over to his cover and jumped down beside him. The Heavy gave him a big smile and an one-armed hug from his sitting position. He felt much better now when he wasn't alone anymore, though their chances of surviving still were almost non existent. At least they would not die lonely. From Heavys perspective, to die side by side with a friend, was a good way to die.

Medic remained standing, crouching a little to keep in cover and out of sight of any eventual enemy nearby, as he looked questioning at Heavy. He had been tending to Soldier the past hours after a sentry blew a hole in the Americans stomach and left his guts dangling out in the open. In the end there was nothing he could do for his patriotic friend, and when Soldier drew his last breath, he steeled himself and ran out in the battle to find the rest of the team to help them as well as he was able to. Now he had been searching the battlefield for half an hour without sight of anyone from the BLU team, except the solitary Heavy.

"Herr Heavy, vhat are you doing here? Vhere are our comrades?"

"Dead… They are all dead, Doctor.."

Medics eyes widened behind his round, dusty glasses.

"Was, everyone? Also zhe Sniper? Even zhe Spy?"

".. Da.."

Medic sat down beside him, his shoulders sagging. He lifted his hand to his face and pinched the bridge of his nose. Heavy let him be, let him cope with the harsh news in peace. After all, it was almost like a death sentence. The russian rested his head on the swampy wall of the trench behind him. What would happen to his sisters and mother, when he were no more? They were all strong women, he knew, he shouldn't be worrying. But he was the man of the house, the guard of the family. Would they even get to know what had happened to him? Would they know he was gone for good? He was sad that he wouldn't live to see them find happiness, to bring them happiness himself. He looked at his old friend. Did the stoic doctor have the same burdens as him? Was he also leaving someone behind, someone missing him and waiting for him to return home? He did not know.

After several minutes where the only sounds were distant shootings, Medic sighed and lifted his head.

"So it's only us left, ja? Zhen we must do our best to stay alive in honor to our dead teammates... Oh, mein Gott, you're bleeding! Vhy didn't you say anyzhing!?"

The Heavy looked down at his wound. It had turned numb at the moment, and as he was sure their death was approaching, he hadn't deemed it necessary to do anything about it. He opened his mouth to answer, but Medic hushed him and batted his hand away from his wound, studied it with a frown and mumbled under his breath. The german had not given up. He would fight for his life as long as he could, and he would be damned if he would let his big russian friend just resign and bleed to death. Heavy looked with new hope at the doctor working. Why give up without a fight? They both had plenty of strength left in them, even when his arm was pretty much useless. Why make it easy for the RED? Besides, two people would maybe, just maybe, be able to slip past the RED mercenaries and escape the battlements. Heavy settled back and closed his eyes, relieved. Him and Doctor would make it. They would survive this damn war and go home to live in peace. He would not leave his sisters just yet.

A soft, little "thud"-sound next to them made him open his eyes again in confusion. The first thing he saw was the wide, frightened eyes of the german man, who was frozen on the spot, still with his hands on his bleeding arm. Heavy turned his head to look at what might have landed beside them. In his heart he already knew it, and as he moved his head in something akin to slow motion, his heart almost stopped in anticipation. In the mud, only few inches away from them, laid a hand grenade. Without its pin.

The time was paused as he slowly, slowly turned his head back and locked eyes with the Medic. In their last seconds they just looked at each other, a multitude of feelings shared between them. Resignation, fear, sadness and... relief. Now it would all be over. No more combat or fighting to stay alive. Just… tranquility.

A big, white explosion broke their stare.

"RED team WINS!"


End file.
